


Better for This

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-22
Updated: 2005-02-22
Packaged: 2017-11-01 10:33:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk!Futurefic.  Cliche ahoy!  Video games, knives, and custom-made lube, but not at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better for This

**Author's Note:**

> I used the original SV airdate of Oct 16 2001 as the day Clark  & Lex met and I'm guessing it was around 5PM. Thanks to Katkim, Lferion, Rhiannonhero, Mistress Ace, and Jaycn for beta reading at various stages over the two years this has been in the works. 

## Better for This

by Auntie Diluvian

[]()

* * *

* * *

"Never?" Lex was incredulous. 

"Nope." 

"You've never been drunk." 

"I tried once." 

Lex huffed an almost-laugh. "Three beers during a four-hour party does _not_ constitute a concerted effort, Clark." 

Zipping up his duffel bag full of dirty laundry, Clark shouldered it, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he turned. Mom would undoubtedly corner him for a haircut when they got back to Smallville. "I never said I tried to get drunk at one of _your_ parties." 

Switching tactics, Lex reproached, "You didn't let me get you drunk for the first time? Clark, I'm hurt. That's what best friends are for." 

Clark stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, automatically responding to Lex's flippant tone, "Yeah, well, it's not too late, seeing as I still don't know what it's like. Maybe when I turn twenty-one and it's actually legal. C'mon, let's go. Mom'll have pie waiting." 

Not budging from the doorway, Lex eyed him as thoroughly as the cramped space of the dorm room allowed and jingled the keys to the latest Porsche. "You've got a fair amount of body mass, but no tolerance built up. I should be able to drink you completely under the table within nine shots." 

"Is that a challenge?" 

Getting right up in Clark's face, there was a maniacal gleam in Lex's eye. "Oh, no. That's a _dare._ " 

* * *

The following Friday night Clark pasted on a smile as Lex opened the penthouse's front door and invited him in. All week he'd been vacillating between smug amusement at Lex's impending loss and cursing himself for getting into a situation that could further reveal his alien weirdness. 

He really had tried to get drunk last spring at a party after midterms. At the time Clark had rationalized that he should learn his limits, and particularly thought that Lex would have approved of the scientific nature of an investigation into drunkenness. It turned out that alcohol had almost no effect, even when consumed in quantity. After several hours of steady drinking with no results, the most he'd managed was a transient euphoric feeling after furtively slamming an entire bottle of cheap tequila. That was closely followed by a short-lived mild headache and a persistent funny taste in his mouth. Clark figured those were symptoms of an instant miniature hangover, and decided the endeavor wasn't worthwhile. 

As Lex headed for the entertainment room he asked, "Are you hungry? The staff are off till Monday morning, but if you want, you can scrounge in the kitchen." 

" _I_ can scrounge? What about you?" 

Lex shrugged. "I'm fine." 

Suppressing the urge to force Lex to eat something, Clark settled for saying, "Aren't we trying to keep this even? I mean, if I eat and you don't, then if I'm not drunk and you are, you might count that as cheating." 

"How can you pass journalism when you come up with sentences like that? I appreciate your sense of fair play, but if you're hungry you should eat." 

"I had dinner at the cafeteria right before I came over. They do good mashed potatoes. I won't be hungry for a while." 

At one point Lex had explained to Clark that the entertainment room was for fun, while the penthouse's _salon_ was for _entertaining._ Clark had never heard of Lex letting any party guests into the entertainment room, but despite the lack of clientele it was furnished with an actual bar rather than Lex's usual minimalist sideboard collection of crystal decanters. 

Lex rounded the bar and faced the profusion of expensive-looking liquor. "So, what are we drinking? Do you have a preference?" He looked over his shoulder at Clark and added, "This'd take too long if we drink beer, so choose something we can do shots of." 

Not tequila. Clark crossed the room and leaned against the bar, the marble face cool against his belly even through the thick cotton of his t-shirt. His eyes skated over the shiny display, latching onto a particularly attractive bottle. He hesitantly offered, "Vodka?" 

"Perfect." Lex's elegant fingers captured the bottle's neck and he scrutinized the label as he turned, lips pursed. It apparently passed muster, and he put it on the bar. "Though it should be cold, not room temperature. Thankfully, I'm prepared." Lex bent over and disappeared from sight, coming up with a double handful of shot glasses from the freezer below the bar, then went back for more. Seeing the chilled glassware immediately frost over, Clark wondered how close to absolute zero Lex's home appliances got. 

Eighteen lined up in two rows of nine, and Lex uncapped the bottle to pour. 

Clark waved to stop the proceedings. "Wait, wait, we need a bet." Maybe he could get temporary custody of the Ferrari. 

Wariness dropped over Lex's face. Putting the cap down, he said, "You're joking." 

"No. I just figure if we're going to do this, we should do it right. There's a challenge involved here." 

"You're not going to make this into a game of Truth and Dare, are you? The last time you were chemically altered you weren't very fun." 

Clark rubbed a fingertip across the top of the bar, smudges smearing the glossy stone. Sophomore year of high school hadn't been his best. Mouthing off to Lex in the barn while Chloe and Pete laughed their way to the car was arguably its low point. "That wasn't booze." 

Lex's lashes dropped, and he looked through them almost sleepily. "Okay," he said, and to all appearances his considerable will became entirely focused on pouring shots that were of equal volume down to molecular level. 

Their current unspoken truce was a delicate balance. Lex didn't press for answers or explanations when something bizarre happened, and Clark did his best to stay honest without giving anything away. Clark suspected it was a giant tangle of 'Lex knew that Clark knew that Lex knew that Clark knew,' and Clark did know better than to drop leading statements in front of Lex. 

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed, both of them pretending to ignore the tension. 

The faint acrid smell of alcohol rose from the glasses as Lex finished dispensing. "How about whoever first admits to being seriously impaired has to answer a single revealing question." 

Clark winced, "C'mon, Lex, that's not very-" 

"It was your idea to make the challenge worth something, and since you posed the bet I'm the one who sets the terms." Lex paused and thought for a moment; Clark imagined he could hear precisely machined gears turning at full speed. "Tell you what, the subject has to be frivolous. No matters of grave importance, just something personal you never told me. And no chickening out." 

Clark crossed his arms defensively. Lex was manipulating him, but he wasn't sure which direction Lex was steering. "You're that convinced you're going to win?" 

"Oh, yes." 

If that's what he wanted... "Okay." 

Facing off over the countertop, each raised their first dose of the poison of choice for the evening. Lex clinked his glass against Clark's. "Za nas." 

"Bottoms up." 

The emptied glasses were back on the bar almost simultaneously. Clark licked his lips; the taste of the cold vodka was like-- sort of a non-taste, barely perceptible. 

Lex had been watching him closely. "What do you think?" 

"Not bad." 

"Two more. Then we'll drink the rest of them in pairs at half-hour intervals and see how you feel. I don't want you to get sick." 

The drinks were dispatched, and Lex ambled over to the couch. Grabbing the remote for the enormous flat screen TV on the wall, he settled into cushy black leather and thumbed on the power. Lex stabbed towards the wakening screen again and did something complicated to set a timer. "There, the computer will let us know when it's time for the next round." 

Meanwhile, Clark had commandeered the other end of the couch, toed off his shoes and put socked feet onto the ottoman. "Geek." 

"I do love my toys." Lex waved the remote screenwards, "Movie? Music? Game? Pick your form of digital entertainment." 

"Definitely a game. I want to see your reflexes take a dive." 

"The system's hiding in that cabinet. And I'll have you know that three drinks will not influence me one bit." 

* * *

Three drinks didn't have any impact on Lex's reflexes, but nine did. 

"I insist we continue." Lex's haughty and composed expression belied the facts that his scores had dropped significantly in the past half hour, and his normal posture had melted into something closer to a sprawl. 

Acting somewhat inebriated just for appearances, Clark was careful to keep it toned down. Lex might be under the impression it was still possible to win, but there was no way Clark was going to risk dodging whatever Lex wanted to ask about. Harmless topic or not, Clark still had too many secrets to hide, and one of the biggest ones had nothing to do with a certain meteor shower. "Lex, I'm really not very drunk. I think this isn't fair; why don't we just call it off?" 

"I know my limits, Clark, and I'm barely tipsy. I said nine shots because I was humoring you. There's no way I'm stopping now. Go pour three more rounds." 

Damn Luthor competitive streak. Clark _really_ didn't want to answer anything Lex considered to be a revealing question. "Okay." 

"And water for both of us." 

Shortly after the fifteenth drink, they gave up on the game station. Three straight hours of NHL-2K6 was enough for Clark, and Lex was starting to have difficulty tracking the action. Not that he'd admit to debilitating intoxication. Clark claimed boredom and put on a Star Trek movie instead. Lex didn't need to be sober to heckle the pseudoscience, and Clark had seen the movie often enough to be more entertained by Lex's lectures than by the film. 

Clark made a bet with himself that Lex would bring up Carl Sagan within the first fifteen minutes. 

* * *

Towards the end of the movie and shortly after their twenty-first drink, Lex unexpectedly caved. From his seat on the floor he announced, "Okay. I admit it. I'm really damn drunk." 

Clark blinked. Winning two bets in such short order was unprecedented, but then the science one had been a gimme -- Sagan's name was mentioned less than five minutes in. He grinned down at where Lex was propped up against the couch. "Are you sure you're drunk? I mean, everyone else I've seen starts grabbing their friends and yelling, 'I love you, maaaaan,' as loud as possible." 

Lex's head lolled back onto the seat cushion and he peered at Clark. Even mostly upside down, the smile he was sporting looked dangerously toothy. "I could do that." 

A boneless-seeming maneuver -- Clark wasn't entirely sure Lex could have done it when sober -- resulted in Lex wedged up against him on the seat with an arm slung tightly around his shoulders. 

"I love you," he whispered into Clark's ear, then turned his head to continue more loudly as he rolled his eyes, "maaan." 

Lex dissolved into laughter, but Clark was thunderstruck. The combination of Lex's warmth, the almost-gone citrus scent of cologne, his breath moving across Clark's neck, and the ring of truth in his words had Clark instantly turned on. 

Clark closed his eyes for a split second, dropping into slow time just like he did when he ran, and memorized the sensations. He'd wanted something like this for so long, but hardly ever allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy. The real thing -- Lex, so close, so open -- was something he wanted to wallow in. 

But self-control was paramount, so he wrenched away from those thoughts as he brought himself back to real time. 

As Lex's laughter wound down, Clark got up and offered a hand to him. "C'mon, Lex, let's get you to bed." 

Lex looked at him speculatively. 

* * *

~Saturday Morning~ 

Lex was seriously hung over. 

He knew it even before he woke up. 

The very pleasant dream he'd been having took an abrupt left turn into Surreal Land where a peeved Martha Kent was repeatedly whacking him on the head with an enormous cast iron frying pan. Lex had been a lucid dreamer for many years; he understood right then he was going to wake up with a bad headache. The thought was enough to rouse him out of the cartoonish nightmare. 

He shifted against the sheets, tried to avoid surfacing fully so he could sleep through the worst of the pain. Unfortunately, moving simply made him aware of his upset stomach and a literal pain in his ass. The discomfort tipped him over the edge to full consciousness. _Shit._

Lex opened his eyes and took stock of the situation. 

The ceiling was familiar. 

_In my own bed. That's good._

He carefully turned his head. The blinds were fully drawn and room mostly dark despite the sunshine stabbing viciously around the edges of the curtains. Lex stifled a moan and turned his head to the other side, closing his eyes mid-motion to keep the nausea manageable. The clock read 10:02 AM, and the alarms had evidently been turned off. There were no meetings this morning, so that was all right. A glass of water and a bottle of aspirin were next to the clock, but despite the sour taste and dehydrated state of his mouth the thought of adding anything to his digestive system was appalling. Lex swept his arm under the pillow next to his own and prepared to muffle his head with it. 

He didn't expect to get a face full of paper. He sighed, gingerly pulled the pillow away, and after a few tries plucked what appeared to be a handwritten note off his forehead. He forced his eyes to focus in the dimness. 

"I had to go but you didn't want to wake up. There's coffee set up in the kitchen for when you're ready. I know you said you don't care, but I'm really sorry about the sheet. -Clark" 

_Sheet?_

Keeping his head still, Lex swiveled his eyes down to the bed's surface. Nothing seemed wrong with the comforter. He dropped the note and flipped back the covers. Then he sat up far too fast. 

Lex swallowed thickly, bowing his head nearly to his knees to make the room stop spinning. _Laws of physics. Yes, physics say the room is not moving, therefore I shall not puke. Deep breaths._ He opened his eyes. 

On either side of his thighs, about a foot outwards, was an oddly wrinkled-looking tear in the sheet. 

Lex slowly, with infinite care, leaned towards one of them. The rip was curved along the bottom edge, a gaping frown exposing the mattress pad. The fabric that had been torn away was crimped into a flap at the top that remained bunched up when Lex poked it curiously. He folded the flap back to see the underside. 

The cotton looked like hammered metal. Shiny and stiff in a regular pattern of troughs, each ending with a crescent indented even more deeply into the compressed fibers. 

Lex lay back down. The swirling in his head was worse. Nonetheless, he took a fold of the top sheet, dragged it into view, and gripped it in a tight fist. He turned his hand to study the results from several angles. 

* * *

The throbbing behind Lex's left eye eventually eclipsed the receding nausea enough that he risked taking some aspirin. Unfortunately the water was at cool room temperature rather than body warm, and his stomach rebelled. 

Lex did reach the bathroom in time. As his body did what it deemed necessary, Lex observed that aspirin still tasted worse on the way back up. 

_As if this is a new and startling revelation._

_Shit, how many drinks did I have?_

* * *

After excessive toothpaste and mouthwash use the subsequent clash of flavors was a small nuisance, but the second mouthful cleared the mint away and the third was nectar of the gods. 

_Coffee._

_Coffee is good._

_Coffee is the best thing in the world._

_I'll buy Columbia._

Lex sipped delicately. Clark had apparently had wonderful foresight and not only set up the coffee, but also drew the blinds in the kitchen. Normally Lex would have scanned the papers and enjoyed ignoring the view of Metropolis, but neither was on the agenda this morning. 

Instead, Lex was wracking his brain, trying to squeeze anything out of the big black blank that was his memory of the latter part of the evening. Obviously something had happened. 

Actually, at least part of the something was fairly specific. His ass was decidedly remembering what his conscious mind could not. 

It was pretty clear that he and Clark had had sex. There was probably semen on the sheets. 

_I could sequence Clark's DNA..._

Ruthlessly squashing the tangential thought, Lex went back to listing the evidence. The mostly-empty bottle of lube on the bedside table was a prime indicator. 

If the soreness and the lubricant were the only clues, Lex could have gone into denial. One could have quite a wonderful time alone by oneself with the assistance of any number of toys that would require lubrication. 

The very odd torn flaps in the sheet, and the (thankfully closed) pocketknife he'd found on the floor were more incriminating, but could potentially be explained away somehow. 

There was no mistaking the marks on his body. Lex knew he healed quickly, but there were purple phantom fingerprints on his chest, hips and waist, and he'd discovered bite marks on his shoulders when he dried off after showering. The skin wasn't broken, but deeply bruised. 

Unless someone other than Clark had gotten into the penthouse, the odds of which were spectacularly low -- the penthouse was exponentially more secure than the mansion ever had been -- the simplest conclusion was that Clark had fucked him. 

On any other morning, Lex would have been elated. As it was, he was too worried about how Clark and the gap in his memory intersected to enjoy the residual effects that a night of wild abandon would normally engender. The fact that his first time with Clark -- how they got to the point of _having_ sex, let alone the sex itself -- was something inaccessible, lost to him, provoked nothing but anger, frustration, and concern. 

And the hangover was still making itself heard. Lex poured himself another cup of coffee. He wasn't up to eating actual food yet. 

* * *

The new sheets had the same thread count as the previous ones, which Lex appreciated as he slid between them. He rolled onto his stomach and hugged the pillow. 

Lying down again was called for. Usually he would have worked out, ran the treadmill, flushed the lingering toxins out of his system with water. But he knew that would speed up his healing process, and despite his misgivings he wanted to feel the aches that Clark had left. 

When he'd changed the bedding Lex couldn't bring himself to throw the old set away. Just like the marks on his body, he wanted the proof of Clark's presence in his bed to remain, somehow. The bundle of torn and stained fabric now resided in the chest across the room. 

Lex snorted at himself. _Emotional fool._ He dared to hope that the sentimental act wasn't something he'd regret later. 

* * *

He woke to the sensation of covers being peeled down his increasingly exposed back, followed closely by a very warm mouth doing some fairly sinful things. Gooseflesh broke out on his arms when the small of his back was licked, then blown on. He always knew Clark's mouth would be talented. 

Lex's eyes opened instantly, and he twisted to see Clark's wicked smile. 

"Good morning. Or, I should say, good afternoon." Clark bent his head again and gently sucked on a bruise on Lex's hip. 

Lex's eyes tried to flutter closed but he obstinately fought against the pleasure, blinking hard instead. He rolled over fully, grateful that the bedding hid how very happy his body was, but then had to prevent Clark from dragging the blankets lower. 

Cupping a hand under Clark's chin and moving that very eager mouth away from his cock was one of the most difficult things Lex had ever done. "Not that I mind what you're doing, but I was still in college the last time I was woken up like this by someone I couldn't remember sleeping with. I wasn't aware our friendship had progressed to this level." 

Clark looked at him questioningly, and Lex clarified by asking, "What happened last night?" 

"Wh-- you don't..." Clark sounded absolutely stricken, "remember?" 

"I remember giving you grief during the movie when you said Picard had sexy jammies, but after that it's a blank. I can deduce what happened, though." 

Clark frowned. "You don't remember anything." 

"No, I don't. I don't know if I coerced you somehow--" 

"Well, jumping on me and cutting my shirt off with a knife was a little over the top..." 

Lex sat up immediately, frantically trying to push Clark's t-shirt aside. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Please tell me whatever happened wasn't against your will." 

Catching his hands, Clark said, "Stop it, Lex. We didn't do anything that I, that _we_ didn't want." Clark leaned in, cradled the back of Lex's head with one warm palm. "And I want you to remember," he murmured before he brushed his lips against Lex's. That shadow of a kiss became the real thing. Clark kissed hard and deeply and with fierce possessiveness. 

Under the caress, memory bloomed. 

* * *

~Friday Night~ 

As Clark turned the covers down, he watched Lex pull his sweater off. He overbalanced, but Clark could see he was headed towards the mattress so let him fall into a sitting position. Lex laughed as he bounced, then lay on his back and rubbed against the sheet, humming with pleasure. 

In an effort to distract himself from his best friend writhing on the bed, Clark turned to the first mundane subject he could think of. "Where do you keep your PJ's?" 

That was good. Cover up the gorgeous, sexy, half-naked ( _best friend, best friend and very drunk_ ) man to reduce the impulse to jump him. Clark went into the walk-in closet and started rooting through drawers. He pulled out a promising candidate but instead of pants they were silky knit boxer briefs. He put them back quickly and walked back into the bedroom. "I give up, where are they?" 

Lex smiled at the ceiling. "What's the point of having sheets with an insanely high thread count if you wear clothes to bed? C'mon, lie down, you have to feel these. But you have to take your shirt off first." 

"That's probably a bad idea." 

"It's the best idea I've had all month. Even better than acquiring that biotech firm. And I'm not staying in bed if you're going to stand there." Lex weaved to his feet and swayed unsteadily. 

Before Lex could lose his balance again and fall forward onto the floor, Clark crossed the room and stabilized him by the shoulders. 

Lex's eyes lit up with unholy glee and he grabbed Clark around the waist and twisted. Clark, not wanting to hurt his ( _very, very drunk, really warm and torturously close_ ) friend, let himself be thrown onto the mattress. Clark wound up flat on his back, and Lex-- pounced, straddling Clark's thighs. 

Lex reached over, dug in the bedside table's drawer, and retrieved a sleek pocketknife. A flick of the thumb opened it. It was very pointy. 

"Do I want to know why you have that handy next to your bed?" 

"Let me show you." Lex leaned in, shirtless, armed, and grinning in appreciation of Clark's alarmed expression. The predatory smile looked just as sharp as the blade. 

Clark mentally scrambled for any reasonable terrestrial explanation for being able to ruin edged stainless steel without even bleeding. Clark trusted that Lex wouldn't deliberately try to hurt him, but then again he never really believed he'd be in this situation. In bed, with his to-all-appearances straight friend, with said friend... jumping him? Despite the confusing possibility of bladeplay, Clark's body was liking the scenario a lot. But, better to end this before something irrevocable happened. He pushed himself up on his elbows. 

Still with that dangerous gleeful expression, Lex pushed him back down. "Think I'll cut you?" 

"I know you won't." 

Stroking down from chin to throat with his free hand, Lex hooked a finger in the collar of Clark's t-shirt and pulled it well away from his neck. The point of the blade pierced the cloth, then sliced up through the collar. Shifting his grip on the knife to keep it from Clark's face, Lex grasped the cut edges with both hands and jerked them apart, ripping the shirt down the middle all the way to the hem. Another flash of steel and Clark was exposed. 

Lex closed the knife, tossed it away. He pushed the ruined clothing aside slowly, uncovering abdomen, ribs, chest, shoulders, and took a long, gloating look. "Better than oysters on the half shell." 

"I should hope so -- they're grey and slimy." Clark's arousal ratcheted up when Lex stroked bare skin from arms to waist with both hands. 

Lex repeated the caress as a scratch of fingernails that would have marked anyone else. "I may be more drunk than you, but I'm not too drunk to fuck." 

Clark grabbed his wrists, stilled their third pass. "Yes, you _are_ drunk. And I'd hate to take advantage of you like this only to have you hate me in the morning." 

"You think this is taking advantage of _me_?" 

Lex's lips were firm, his tongue velvety and hot, and the kiss gained speed and momentum very quickly. Clark could feel Lex pressed against him from chest to hips, and it was apparent that that was no accident when Lex began rocking slowly. 

Clark couldn't tell if he was more turned on by the sucking bites Lex was lavishing on his lower lip, or the way that Lex's movement was bringing them both to complete hardness. Clark was very tempted to just give in, but he couldn't risk damaging their friendship, no matter how much he wanted this. Lex was too drunk to have thought this through. He had to cool things off. 

"Wait, wait. The bet. I still have to ask you that question, Lex." 

"Now?" Lex thrust down against him, making Clark moan out loud. "It doesn't _feel_ like you want to talk right this instant." 

It was all Clark could do to stay still, to keep his grip on Lex's wrists. He wanted to give in, drive himself against Lex, tear their pants off, fuck or be fucked, it didn't matter.... But it did matter. 

Clark took a deep breath. "I'm asking now. How many hours has it been since you decided you wanted me?" If he could get Lex to admit to wearing the proverbial beer goggles, those notorious producers of legendary wrong moves, he could avert this -- whatever it was -- and their friendship might survive intact. 

Lex laughed. "You sure you want to know?" 

"You're the one who said no chickening out." Damn it, Lex wouldn't stop squirming. 

"Because I did say it should be something trivial, and this is really important." 

Important? "Lex, answer me." 

Lex looked at the clock, cocked his head upwards and gave it some thought, then reached a conclusion and looked back down. His expression was perilously close to being a smirk. "Given that today has just recently become October fourteenth, approximately forty-three thousand, seven hundred and fifty-nine hours. Give or take." 

Clark blinked. Several times. Lex had wanted him since the moment they met? 

Lex leered at him. "Yeah, that long. You have no idea how much self control I've burned through." 

"So, you've thought about this. Us." 

"On a nigh daily basis." Lex ducked his head back down and licked Clark's ear, murmuring, "Frequently calling your name at the same time." 

* * *

~Saturday~ 

The kiss went on, Lex didn't want it to end. Even as he felt the memories unfolding, as he tried to absorb it all, he couldn't get enough of Clark's mouth. 

* * *

~Friday~ 

The sheets did feel really nice against bare skin. 

They were sandpaper-rough compared to Lex's mouth. 

Clark couldn't help thrusting his hips upwards when Lex's head bobbed rhythmically, moved his hands away from Lex's head and grabbed handfuls of the sheet beneath them instead. Part of him wanted to just continue fucking Lex's throat till he came, but Lex had said something about getting inside as he'd arranged Clark on the bed after they'd gotten rid of their remaining clothing. Clark's attention to Lex's words was diverted when that mouth first went down on him. It was almost too good, but the thought that Lex might want something else, something more, made him ask, "Lex? You want to --" 

Pulling away with a wet pop, Lex flicked his pink tongue against Clark's glans while stroking the skin up and down the shaft with one hand. It was obscene in the best possible way. "Mmmm, god you taste fantastic." Another tease of tongue, and this time Lex licked up a drop of pre-come, a momentary silver string linking Lex's mouth and Clark's cock. Clark shuddered. "I want to be stone-cold sober the first time I fuck you. When I push into you, I want to be so aware of every feeling that I'll have to fight not to come right then." Lick. "You'll be so very ready, I'll have done so many tricks to make you want it bad, and I want to see your face when I do it, watch your body tense up and your mouth drop open like it is now, and god I've wanted to fuck your mouth forever, wanted you so long, _want_ you to fuck me _now_ \--" Lex bent his head again, and Clark cried out as hot wet pressure surrounded his cock once more. 

"Lex! Unh, if you want me on top," panted breath, "you need to stop." 

"Who said I wanted you on _top_? Besides, I'm in charge tonight. That way you can't have any doubt that I wanted this." Lex crawled up and kissed Clark, deep and lingering, and fished blindly in the bedside table drawer again. 

When he sat back, once again straddling Clark's thighs, he was holding a bottle of lubricant. He waved it at Clark. "You'll like this. _I_ like this, I've been using it for years to jerk off with. I made the formula so it'd smell like you." 

Despite the haze of pleasure clouding his mind, Clark had to ask. "What do I smell like?" 

"Cinnamon and sweat and sunshine, earth and plants and soap, a little bit like fresh milk, a hint of chocolate. Spicy and pure and just waiting to be defiled," lilting became velvet and gravel, "and I'm just the man to do it." 

Clark wanted to laugh but there was nothing funny about Lex's hand back on his cock, slippery and tight, and he wanted to come and there was no room for amusement when Lex crept forward and used that same hand to slick his own cock, the shine accenting the engorged veins that Clark wanted to lick. Then Clark held his breath as Lex reached behind himself. Clark desperately wanted to see that, see Lex's fingers plunge into his own body, but the sight of Lex arched backwards above him was more than enough. Pale skin, beautiful lean body, blood-dark cock jutting out, it was impossible to resist. 

Clark sat up, licked the first traces of sweat from right below Lex's ribs. The concave flesh rounded as Lex leaned forward, pushing Clark back down. Clark groaned, gripping the sheet again with each hand. 

"I'm more than ready. And I want to _feel_ you." Lex reached back again, lifting Clark's cock into place, and sank downwards. 

And didn't stop. One long slide and Clark was. In Lex. 

Clark gritted his teeth, clenched his fists tight, tight, ripping the sheet and not caring, let the heat and pressure drive him beyond words as he struggled not to come. Arching up from the bed, he thrust as Lex rode down the last fraction, reveling in the sensation of finally fucking the man he'd wanted, loved, for _years_ and fighting the rush that threatened to end it far too soon. 

He wanted to come, he wanted to howl, he wanted to set fire to the world with his eyes and his passion and he wanted to scream to the abandoning stars that yes, yes, Lex wanted this as much as he did. 

Lex. Gotta make this good for Lex. Reason tentatively reasserted itself. Clark pried his fists from the bedding and gently held Lex's hips. 

Lex was grimacing, but his eyes were full of nothing but need. "Please, Clark," he panted, "please let me feel you touch me." Clark increased the pressure of his hands, let his fingers dent Lex's skin as Lex started moving up. "God yes, I want you to mark me, bruise me, I want to feel it for days," Lex murmured, expression transforming into a wicked smile. 

Clark could barely focus on anything past the ring of hot friction sliding up his cock, but the idea of Lex wearing the evidence of their desire was.... "Yes, yeah, I want to see it." 

Lex bore down again, then up, establishing a rhythm as Clark let his hands move where they wanted to be, feeling all the parts of Lex that he'd had to restrain himself from touching for, oh, so long, careful not to press bone but indulging his skin's need to get closer, ever closer. Lex's supple waist, the muscles shifting as he moved, Lex's ass, the roundness and hollows their movement created. "Yeah, Lex, I _want_ you to feel me, feel where I've finally touched you, know that I've wanted to do _this,_ " Clark pinched pectoral muscles as Lex gasped, "know that I've wanted to suck on these," he rolled Lex's nipples firmly in his fingertips. 

"Tell me." Lex looked hungry. 

"Once, you were in the loft with me and you'd left your jacket off, and I could hardly talk for wanting to bite your nipples through your shirt. I could see them, you were cold, and I wanted to--" Clark curled his body up, caught a tightened peak with his lips and rubbed his tongue back and forth. The lingering scent of Lex's cologne was stronger here, and Clark could smell citrus, evergreen, _them,_ as he sucked the hardened nipple, scoured the rough of his tongue over the smooth tiny mesa. 

Lex laughed through a moan, fisted a handful of Clark's hair and pulled him back. "Tell me more." 

Lex's eyes were blown open, pupils huge even though the lids were half shut. Clark had never seen anything sexier, taking in a wider view as he lay down again. "What, that I've dreamed about this, come thinking about this, about you riding me," hands on Lex's hips now, guiding a circular motion, "about you naked and turned on, so very hard for me? I have, you know. I do." 

"Ah, fuck, Clark," Lex breathed as he grabbed Clark's hand and brought it to his groin. Clark's right hand laced with Lex's left, their fingers knit together as their palms formed a channel for Lex's cock. Clark let Lex set the pace, both with their bodies and their hands. 

Their grip pulled, the shiny head of Lex's cock sliding out, sliding back, steadily leaking as he worked himself on Clark. Belly trembling, thighs straining, his mouth open and panting, Lex's eyes were half closed but riveted on Clark. Clark could feel the surge beginning in the flesh in his grasp, the tightening of the muscles clasping his cock. 

Lex couldn't hold the gaze, threw his head back and moved wildly, clamping around Clark and working their hands so fast just under the head of his cock that they were almost a blur. Lex's voice was raw when he screamed, his come landing in hot splashing streaks across Clark's chest. Clark was desperate to let his own climax tear through him, but wouldn't, couldn't miss a second of Lex coming. 

As the spasms ended Lex opened his eyes, smiled beatifically down at Clark. "Mmm, I want to lie down now." He pulled himself up and off as Clark rolled to the side of the bed, gracefully bellyflopped facedown where Clark had been. He spread his legs. "C'mon, Clark, I want to feel you come." 

Clark needed no further invitation, pushed his cock back inside. An instinctive need to see Lex, see the rest of their first time together, kept him from draping himself along Lex's prone body. Instead, cock still firmly in place, he straddled Lex's thighs, his own thighs spread as he nudged Lex's together. He settled back, palming Lex's ass as he knelt upright. 

From his new vantage Lex was a banquet ready to be savored. He spread Lex's buttocks apart, taking an excruciatingly slow stroke, fascinated by the way he sank into Lex's flesh, how it clung to his cock when he withdrew... The knob all but slipped from the rim, then disappeared as he thrust forward once more. 

Watching his cock slide in and out was only made hotter by seeing Lex's come slide down his chest, his belly. He scooped some up in his fingers, wet the base of his cock with it. 

Moaning steadily, Lex undulated and Clark _had_ to bend down, bite the bunched muscles of his shoulders, smearing Lex's come on his own back then sitting upright again to see the art they made. Lex, pale and flushed and bruised, shiny with sweat and glistening with semen, profile against the pillow... smiling. Lex was happy. 

Clark's heart felt like it would overflow. That Lex wanted this as much as he did, that their friendship was becoming... more, that one day soon he'd tell Lex he loved him and know Lex would want to stay... _would_ stay. God, it was the biggest turn-on. 

And it was too much, too _right,_ love and lust and _completion._ Clark pounded into Lex, short thrusts that flashed ever faster, that drove him right up to the brink and pushed him over. 

* * *

Lex pulled back from the kiss, gasping, finally too overwhelmed to continue. "God, Clark...." 

Clark grinned at him, kissed his forehead, and held him close. Lex tucked his face into Clark's neck, flannel and skin equally soft as he let the memories wash over him. That they were from Clark's point of view was -- but there were more immediate needs at hand. 

Catching his breath, Lex pulled himself together long enough to say, "I seem to recall we agreed to continue when I'm sober. In case you're wondering, I'm fully coherent -- right now." 

Clark laughed. "Good. 'Cause I've been waiting all morning for my turn." 

* * *

**FIN**

Author's 


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